


Turning Point #2

by LunaDeSangre



Series: The Way You Fall Asleep [3]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDeSangre/pseuds/LunaDeSangre
Summary: Kelly should, very probably, think before he speaks.





	Turning Point #2

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another proof that chronological writing is not my thing. I can't deal with two WIPs in the same fandom, especially when this one already has so much of the ending written already. (And of the middle. And random little bits. And some of the After. This universe is eating my brain and branching and refusing to stop.) So have little snapshots snips instead, guys, it'll be (vaguely) faster, trust me!

"So," Matt whispers _right_ into Kelly's ear, leaning far more against him than the bar, "I'm wearing blue underwear tonight."

Kelly snorts beer through his nose. Because _of course_ the little shit's not only waited until Kelly was taking a mouthful to say something like that, but he's also said it in a low sultry voice Kelly would _never_ have thought him capable of.

Matt cracks up, while Kelly coughs and probably makes faces. "Shut up," he groans, nearly laughing himself because Matt radiating happiness is just contagious. "It fucking hurts, you know."

"I'm sorry," Matt hiccups, "was only trying to make sure we didn't end up wearing each other's undies this time."

"Sorry, my ass," Kelly shoots back, glaring only half in jest, "you did that _completely_ on purpose. I should fucking spank you for it, you _tease_."

Matt's mouth falls open a little, that beautiful face flushing crimson again, eyes widening—but sparkling, and _darker_. That pink tongue darts between his perfect teeth, just the tip peeking through, gone in a flash, and Kelly thinks _holy shit_.

Holy _fucking_ shit, because he knows that look, even if he's never seen it on Matt before—and _seeing it on Matt_ just got him some kind of instant hard-on.

 _You'd like that_ wars in his head with _You'd be gorgeous sprawled ass-up on my lap_ and _I want your mouth_.

He presses his lips closed firmly and tries not to squirm on his bar stool. His pants are not tight enough to let it show, but he's sure he's at least half-hard and it's fucking embarrassing—and it makes him want to turn Matt over his knee even more, which is _not helping_.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees his little shit is still red in the face, but turned to lean against the bar properly now, eyes scoping the place. Kelly watches him swallow a mouthful of beer, and is hit with such a raw bolt of _want_ —he hastily puts his beer bottle down on the counter before he spills it all over himself, and it rattles against the wooden top. Because, apparently, his hands are shaking. What the _fuck_ , Severide.

"See anyone?" Matt asks, still not looking at him, voice unfairly _normal_.

 _Yes_ , Kelly thinks—wildly, suddenly entertaining the thought of throwing him over his shoulder and making off with him like a horny caveman carrying his prize to his lair.

He takes a deep breath instead, and then a huge gulp of beer, emptying his bottle. Lets his gaze wander around, and catches the intense, interested stare of a dark-haired girl all the way across the room.

"How'bout her?" he asks, nodding in her direction. Matt follows his gaze, and she grins the kind of grin Kelly can read just about anywhere, in any state.

"She's pretty," Matt answers. And with a little puzzled frown that's so adorable Kelly wants to kiss it: "But she's alone and—there's two of us?"

" _Well_ ," Kelly drawls, drawing out the last syllable in anticipatory delight, "I'm game to share if you are, sunshine."

Matt actually gawks for a few seconds, flushing again. "Wha—what makes you think _she_ is?" he asks instead of answering, voice a bit unsteady and eyes all huge—but pupils completely _blown_.

Kelly grins at him so wide it nearly splits his face. "Watch," he says. And he draws Matt right against his side with a hand around his waist, looks back at their potential one-night partner-in-crimes with his grin turning challenging, sneaks a glance at Matt (who reddens more and bites his lower lip, clutching his beer bottle and sagging against him, all warmth and embarrassed, big-eyed trust—Kelly's torn between _adorable_ and _want_ still), and stares back at her with his eyebrows raised.

She looks him square in the face, slides her eyes to Matt with an answering climbing eyebrow, and with a smirk, knocks back her drink in one go and starts in their direction.

Matt makes a little choked sound, half-laughter, half-exasperation, and Kelly pulls him closer to snicker against that soft blond hair.

"You're unbelievable," Matt groans against his neck, amusement and anticipation laced with lingering embarrassed shyness—but still nearly making Kelly _shudder_.

"Come on sweetheart, finish your drink," Kelly tells him instead, finding himself full of adoring fondness for the man in his arms even as he watches their new prospecting bedmate approach with that enticing up-to-no-good smirk still on her face, "we got a _date_."

Four to seven to three. A part of him thinks: now, how to make it _two_. But how that can happen and whether it's a good idea or not—whether if it's a good idea or not even _matters_ at this point—he'll wonder later.


End file.
